For The Love of The Hunt
by N.J Maacha
Summary: Read and Review! Sam and Dean keep running into another Hunter by the name of Michelle, a foster kid who raised herself from her dad's "Diary". Little do they know that all these little incidents are no just by accident. There is a bigger picture, and war is only just beginning.
1. Chapter 1

I wonder sometimes if everything is just a little too good for me. I wake up everyday wondering if this is the path I was meant to be taking, am I doing everything right, or making all the wrong choices. Am I the person I am suppose to be or am I letting everyone down. Things that should come easily are things I struggle to comprehend or hold onto.

It's harder to sit and do nothing when everything is moving in fast forward around you, and yet that is exactly what I found myself doing. I was six when it happened. When my life took a huge wring turn and everything around me seemed to fall apart, like leaves leaving branches in the fall. I wanted nothing more then to curl up in a ball and stay there, protected and unaware of everything around me. I was sixteen when I finally left the system and now at twenty one, fourteen years had passed me in slow motion, home after home taking me in and totally leaving me abandoned. I hated the new start. I never quite got the hang of integrating into a new family, a new school, or even into the new home. I usually left everything packed and ready to move on. I didn't form attachments or make any attempt at getting to know the people who took me in. There was no point. I was always ready for the next home, because at any given moment I was likely to be thrown out and given away to face the next family, school, and home all over again.

People didn't want to take in a teenage girl these days, and they usually didn't want one with as bad of a history as I did. I spent what time I had hiding in my room researching the paranormal and reading my father diary.

I had convinced every foster family I had into letting me take martial arts and even had a few foster fathers teach me to hunt.

My name is Michelle.

I'm a girl.

I have platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

And I'm a hunter.

But not in the literal since.


	2. Chapter 2

I wanted a fast car. A car that would make me feel strong and invincible. A car that would make me feel like a warrior. That car was my beloved 1970 Boss 302 Mustang. I learned a lot about cars from one of my foster fathers and when I spotted the blue Mustang with black detail I fell in love. I knew I wanted it, and the foster dad did too. He bought it and even though I didn't stay with the family I inherited my baby when I turned 16. I drove down the twisting stretch of road towards the next town that I had been researching. I had picked up some clues on a few missing persons cases with similar details.

If I was correct I had myself a vampire infestation.

My blonde hair was blowing wildly as I cruised with the windows down passing the welcome sign into the small town of Spring Hill, Kansas. It was night time, the stars sparkling above a small cafe, the moon full and bright. I ordered my food from what the guys in the booth behind me had called a "smoking hot" waitress. Red hair in loose curls and bright green eyes with an hourglass figure and a short skirt.

I poured over my fathers journal, re-reading his ideas on the hunting of Vampires. His method was a bit different then my own but I had to be a little more careful being much smaller then him. I was 5'7 and 123 pounds of lean muscle. Tomorrow morning I had to head to the coroners office and figure out if the vampire idea was exactly what was going on here. But I had a feeling that this would be a good case, and a nest of vampires would be mine for the hunting.

"So little Missy, You really from the FBI?"

"Yes sir." I sat inspecting the body, from what I could tell I definitely had a vampire infestation in the small town.

"Some men stopped by earlier from the FBI as well, how many of you did they send?"

"Men?" I looked up questioningly. The older man pushing the body back into the locker.

"Yeah two big guys, looked pretty buff, wearing suits. Said they where FBI."

"We might have had a miss communication, I'll have to call headquarters." I walked out of the room and back to my baby. I popped the trunk to check on my gear deciding on a large knife. I made my way back to the hotel room to settle in and prepare myself. I sharped the blade and prepared the human blood by poisoning it by the Leviathan food additive and burned some saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium to dust my clothes later to prevent detection.

As night drew close I packed my bag and headed out to the location of where the victims had last been seen. I wore my Black cargo pants with a black tank top, dusted with the burned saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. My choppy blond hair had been pulled back into a messy pony tail.

"Well hello there?" I hadn't spent much time looking before the voice caught me off guard. I spun around just in time to see the vampire before me, long dark hair, muscular body in jeans and a black leather jacket. A figure appeared behind him and he went limp, before I knew what was happening I felt a needle pierce my skin. With the desired affect not achieved, I turned only to receive a blow to the back of the head and then darkness.

"Dean I think they're coming around."

"So our vampires are waking up."

"Ugh," I moaned my head killing me. I couldn't believe someone had gotten the jump on me. My vision was swimming but I managed to choke out some words, "Vampire?"

"Yeah, you and you're little friend here are gonna lead us to your nest." I opened my eyes fully and absorbed the sight of the room. The decor was the same as my own motel room. Before me stood two men. Both muscular, one with shaggy brown hair and one with spiked hair, they looked so similar, if I didn't know any better I'd say brothers.

"I'm not a vampire."

"Oh really, now only a vampire would say that." The shorter darker haired one retorted.

"Check my bag." I twisted my wrists in their rope cuffs; rocking them against the wood of the small chair. The shaggy haired boy ruffled through my bag pulling out the blood and the rest of my dust, My knife sat out on their dresser. Finally they withdrew my fathers book.

"Hunter," He tossed the book towards his brother who caught it and flipped through the pages.

"You've got to be kidding me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Seriously." I held my wrist in my hand, the fact that I had been confused as a vampire had me seriously questioning their capability as hunters.

"The names Dean." The dark, scruffy one was looking through my dad's books while the shaggy haired one checked the vampire. "This here is my brother Sam."

"Okay," I snatched my bag off the floor and tossed it over my shoulder before making a grab for my knife and tracing the blade with the tip of my finger, careful not to slice open the flesh.

"So are you going to tell us who you are?" He snapped when I didn't answer.

"You're the guys from the diner."

"And who are you?"

"You can call me Mitch." I slid the knife back into a sheath attached to my belt. "And this is my vampire hunt."

"Actually we'd be more then happy to work it with you." Sam spoke up after administering another round of poisoned blood to the vampire. "What have you learned to far?"

"I've learned that you two are both incapable idiots."

"What?" Both boys snapped up.

"How the hell do you confuse a human for a vampire." My eyes flickered back and forth between the two.

"Well maybe you shouldn't be wondering around in the dark."

"My eyes would have been shiny."

"We made a mistake." Sam sat down on his bed. "Were sorry about that."

"Yeah." I snorted, a half laugh escaping from me.

"Listen, we have to make our move on the vampires tonight." Dean grabbed a machete off a side desk.

"Then lets go." I made for the door as they grabbed their things and carried the vampire from the room.

There were five of them, including the leader of the nest. The boy's handled their own, very well for making the mistake they had earlier.

"So how did you get into the Hunting game?"

"Its a family business." I replied to Sam's question. "You're the Winchester brothers right?"

"That's us." Dean shut the trunk of his car, sealing away all their hidden weapons.

"Next time don't get in my way."

"Wow, thanks for the warning."

"I'm not being mean." I stared Dean down. If you wanted to be taken as a serious hunter, especially as a female, you had to make a lasting impression of yourself. "I'm trying to figure things out. The names Michelle, and I'm hunting a demon. You understand."

"Of course." I walked back to my Mustang and tossed the bag inside as Dean fallowed over, running his hand across her body. "Nice wheels."

"Thanks." I climbed inside the drivers seat and backed up, leaving the boys behind. Little did I know this would not be the last time the Winchester brothers crashed my hunt.


	4. Chapter 4

When I was six something incredibly bad happened to me. I had already lost my mother in a tragic accident where my birth was directly related to the cause of her death. My father was a hunter. He always had been, even before he met mom. She was kind with glittering brown eyes and long brown curls that fell around her face in a dark curtain. There where a lot of pictures of them in my dad's book. She had the kind of smile that made her whole face light up and her eyes cringe into half-moons. She was what I would proudly claim as beautiful.

My father however was tall and thin, you would easily mistake him for lanky if you had never seen him with his shirt off. He was incredibly strong, but all kid's think their dads are invincible when they are smaller and completely innocent. My parents where young when I had been born. I never got to know my parents as well as i would have liked. My father with his slicked back blonde hair and wide green eyes. His face was usually quite stern in the photographs but I remember his smile as if it were burned into the back of my eye lids. His laugh echoed in my ears sometimes when I found myself thinking about him, but then it had been cut short by the sound of his last screams.

The night he died he hid me in a chest down in the cellar of our home. The home he had built for my mom before I was born. He did his best as a father but his first priority was that of a hunter, which he hid from me for the whole six years of our lives together.

The day of his funeral I stood there among a number of adults, mostly men but there were some women as well. Everyone was older than me with the exception of two other kids. Two boys. They stood off to the side with two men, much older than my father, with just as much toughness and strength carved into their faces. I didn't know anyone here. I just stood there by the casket as people approached and then left. Some crying, most with stony faces. They said their I'm sorry's as they passed me in their sunday best. I just stood there. I didn't know what being dead meant.

And then as everyone was leaving one of the guys that stood off with the kids approached me. They stayed back with the other man.

"My names Bobby." He leaned down to me on one knee and looked me dead in the eye. "I worked with your dad."

I said nothing.

"This here is a book I think he'd like you to have." He reached out and took my hands, pulling something from within his jacket. "Do you remember how your Dad died?"

I nodded my head yes, but no one would believe me if I told them, I didn't even believe it myself.

"Now, you have to remember that. Okay?" He shook my hands before standing up and ruffling my blonde hair. "Don't forget you're old man. He was a good guy."

The man walked away and I traced my fingers over the leather image of a large tree encased in a circle, located in the center of the book. It was so large and heavy but even at a young age I knew this meant something. It was the last thing I had of my father, the only thing I'd ever had of my mothers.

It was a burden I was willing to carry.

When everyone had left a woman in black came up and took my hand, she had graying hair and wrinkles that warped her face and hands. She led me away from my father and the empty grounds of where he would be laid to rest and she placed me in the backseat of a large black car. I leaned over the back of the seat to stare out the back window just in time to see the two men and the two boys surround my father, and then the whole area light up in a blaze of orange and yellow dancing flames.

The first night in the orphanage I traced that tree with my fingers a million times, remembering each branch and twist before I fell asleep. I never wanted to let go of that book.


	5. Chapter 5

I traced my finger over the tree of life as the rain poured down, banging it's fists against the windows of the motel I was staying in. It echoed even louder in the emptiness of the room then it had when I was standing outside. It seemed like everything echoed here. Some day's I liked being on my own. I liked facing death and fighting for good. I had fallowed a lead here, the demon I was hunting had been spotted by hunters a few miles from here, however there was an even bigger problem that I faced at the current moment.

Stories had arisen that sounded like a vengeful spirit, and even though I was closing in on a new lead for my main hunt which this vengeful spirit had briefly been confused as, the idea of people around me being attacked was more important. I had settled in for the night reading my fathers book, searching for clues as to how he was hunting this particular demon, and just as I finished another chapter the rain began to pound harder against the glass pane. I turned my attention to the window as a bolt of lightening lit up the sky and then turned my attention back to my book.

"Open up!" A loud banging had been taken up against my door and it wasn't just the rain. The voice startled me sending my book flying and me jumping out of my skin six feet above the bed I was lounged across. I waited a few seconds staring at the door as another flash etched across the sky, enough for me to make out a blurry figure behind the glass. "Come on!"

"Who is it?" I slowly edged myself off the bed and slid a knife from the desk by the door. The rain was starting to slow down.

"We don't have time for 20 questions now." The voice was rough and sounded eerily familiar. "Open the god damn door."

I swung the door open and standing there where the two men from a few days ago., soaking wet and out of breath.

"What the hell." I backed away form the door as they pushed in.

"Sorry about this." Sam shrugged his shoulders as the walked in with their bags in hand, Dean's riffle gripped tightly by his side.

"I thought I recognized the car." Dean tossed his bag on the still made bed that I had just been laying across and Sam shut the door as they infiltrated my room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean began to strip off his t-shirt, Sam was already there. I turned flushed for my bed and grabbed my fathers book from where I had dropped it.

"Were having a sleep over." Dean retorted starting to change his pants. I flopped down, face first onto my bed the pillows suffocating my face.

"You have got to be kidding me."


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N) Please Read and Review, I really would liek to know what you like and what you don't like so I can make this a better read for everyone, -Maacaha

* * *

The first page in my dads book is all about my mom. She died the moment I was born, but the first two pages give me details about her that dad wanted to remember for himself. As if in not writing them down he was cursing himself to forget everything about her.

I kept myself distracted in those pages as the boys sat and argued about the spirit and how they would be able to figure out who it was that was haunting the area.

"No input?" Dean snapped on me as I spaced out once more staring into my mothers eyes.

"None at all." I slammed my book shut and tossed it onto the side dresser. "Why are you guys even here?"

"Where hunting the ghost." Dean looked absolutely dumbfounded, as if my question could have easily been answered by a five-year old.

"I meant my room." I rolled my eyes heavenward and prayed for an end to this night.

"It saves us money, time, and effort." Dean gave a cocky half-smile. "It means later on we don't have to worry about bumping into you while hunting our ghost friend."

"Would it really take three hunters to salt and burn some old bones?" I looked around the room, looking for an escape, either way I was stuck in the room with them for the night, and if they didn't give up on my case I'd be stuck with them for the duration of my hunt.

"You never know." Sam poured over a set of books and his laptop at the desk, which had already been clarified as town records.

"Fine then." I knew I wouldn't be able to shake them from my case. I swung my legs off the bed and heading towards the shower. I gave a little peace sign and slammed the door.

The water was hot, boiling even. It turned my skin red as I stood under the shower head, burning my skin. It was cleansing. The room filled up with steam and when I stepped out into the bathroom it swirled around me, pressing itself to my already warm skin. It made everything sticky. I wrapped myself in a towel and exited the steam into the bedroom where the boys still remained, unfortunately.

I made my way to my duffel bag on the table by the windows, feeling their eyes on me. I pulled my clothes from the bag and slid on my under garments before removing the towel all together and sliding on my black shorts and a yellow tank top. When I turned around all eyes seemed to look away quickly. Dean had taken up the king sized bed, clothes on and boots off. I shoved him, trying to move him out of the center and then sat down reluctantly, tucking myself away under the covers and laying on my side so I wouldn't have to face them.

"Going to bed?" Dean gave a chuckle.

"Trying to forget about you,"

"Sorry to disappoint, but most girls who get in bed with me, never forget me."


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N) I love reviews, so If you leave one I'll love you forever! -Maacha

* * *

I woke up early the next day to a heavy weight on my side, rolling over the back of Dean's head blocked my view. I could feel the hair on my nose we where so close. I jumped from the bed, wiping my arms as if that could rid myself of the closeness. I hated being close to people. I didn't like the idea. A hunter lead an unpredictable life and we could not chance getting close to anyone. After all; look at what happened with mom and dad. They had both died on me. I had myself and I needed no one else. Especially in a hunt. Other people just got in the way.

Good intentions or not; I didn't want to hunt with anyone.

One wrong move and you where dead. It was easier to depend on yourself.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. This hunt was mine.

"Leaving so soon?" I had just started to turn the handle when the voice spoke up. Glancing at the bed, Dean's naked torso was sitting up. His other half, clothed thank god, was still covered by the sheets.

"I figured I'd get an early start on my Hunt."

"It doesn't even occur till night time."

"I'm getting fresh air."

"So full of excuses." He gave a half smile and walked over to where I stood. I dropped my bag and rolled my eyes heavenward.

"It's my hunt."

"Were sharing."

"We are not." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back again leaning against the wall. His hand rested by my face as he leaned into me. I gave a low growl. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Hunt." We where glaring each other in the eyes at this point.

"It's a family business. I gotta protect my family."

"Well I only have to protect myself." He searched my face for a reaction, for something deeper then the words I was saying, I could see it in his eyes.

"What are you hunting?" He saw it. Somewhere on my face he saw the deeper meaning.

"We all have our own Demons."

"What are your's?" I could feel his breath on my Lips. It was warm and soft.

"Lamia."

"Lamia?"

"Do not all charms fly,

at the mere touch of cold Philosophy?

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven;

We know her woof, her texture; she is given

In the dull catalog of common things.

Philosophy will clip an angels wings,

Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,

Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine-

Un-weave a rainbow, as it erewhile made

The tender- person'd Lamia melt into a shade."

"Who is Lamia?" He backed off enough to let me slip out from under him.

"I thought this spirit was Lamia, due to the fact that it involves all children, but nothing else shows signs of demons." I took a seat at the computer and began typing. "Lamia is my demon. She is the eater of children."

A photo of a women with a serpentine face showed on the screen and I slid back away from the computer. "When I was six days old she came into my home. My mother was murdered shortly after I was born. Six day's to be exact. Her eyes where gouged out. Her back shredded to ribbons. I heard rumors. The found her in a pill of feathers from the pillows and comforter of there bed, my dad used to say I was protected by Micheal."

"Like the angel Micheal?" He gave a small chuckle.

"Yeah, like the angel."

"And your Pop's just walked in and found you."

"No."

"No?" He sounded shocked.

"Someone gave me to him." I stood abruptly and grabbed my dads book form my bag, flipping to the last pages, the farthest from all the good things my dad wanted to remember. _" 'He seemed to glow even in the dark street lights. His skin was pale but he held her in her pink blanket, bundled in one arm. In the other hand he held a yellow candle. I was crying over my wife but he passed me the baby and told me to protect her. She was destined to be great. Around her neck he had placed a chain with a few Medals, and told me they would protect her from evil. They where watching. When I looked in her face she glowed just like him.'"_

I could feel the tears in my eyes and then the book being lifted gently from my hands. Dean's voice rang out in my ears. _" 'While my wife laid in bloodied feathers, her back shredded to ribbons and her eyes gone, my baby had been protected, but she wasn't my baby anymore. She never was. Cam, that man who glowed, he told me she was never mine but I still had to protect her, I had to raise her. This was the day I lost my wife, my daughter, and my life. This was the day I became a hunter, once more. Cam never let me forget it. Lamia could come back at any time."_

"I got Coffee, I figured we could go out for breakfast later." Sam walked through the door, Dean passing the book to him, letting him read silently.

"Damn, do I love hunting Demons." He gave a chuckle.

"It's not you're hunt."

"Then let me ask you something now." He smiled devilishly. "Why do you do this?"

"Because ultimately; Good is stronger then Evil."

* * *

(A/n) Big thanks to my last reviewer, Adrillian1497. Tried to make this one a little longer ;]


	8. Chapter 8

I sat bouncing my foot up and down. In the middle of the small town we had resided in Sam had managed to find a small diner that looked as if it sold decent food. The boys sat next to each other, leaving me the empty bench. They dug into plates heaped with food while I sat pushing around eggs and fruit.

"You should eat up." Dean managed between chews.

Sam looked over at me, "You're going to need your strength."

"I don't need you telling me what to do." I jabbed my fork into a slice of watermelon and crammed it into my mouth, chewing vigorously.

"I get the feeling you don't like us very much." Sam held my gaze. "Why is that?"

I looked back at my plate and twirled the eggs around in the spatter of ketchup. "I don't trust anyone."

"Well you can trust us." Sam reached across to touch my hand and I quickly pulled away sitting up right.

"Just for this hunt," I let my gaze flick between the two of them. "and then I'm going off on my own again."

"To hunt your demon." Dean huffed pushing his finished plate away from him and downing his coffee.

"Yeah." I glared at him and then began to eat the mess of scrambled eggs in front of me. "Do you think we could hurry this up."

* * *

Hunting a ghost usually took everything I had. An undercover identity, or five, and an easy-going smile. The back of my car was loaded with salt and everything needed to burn a set of bones. After a few days of undercover work I usually had things wrapped up very nicely. With this case however, the ghost in question was hunting and preying on little children, almost impossible to tell when the next attack would occur or who the attacker might possibly be.

In my head I was mentally thanking god for sending Dean and Sam my way, however as we sat outside in Deans Black Chevy I still had my arms crossed and refused to let on that I needed their help. The idea of having anyone help me seemed completely absurd. "So are you ready?"

Sam leaned over the passenger seat to look back at me. I smiled my half-smile, "I love a good hunt."

* * *

We spent the majority of the morning casing houses. We went to houses of earlier victims, small children. Pained heart after pained heart. Parents mourning the lose of their little ones, and I wondered to myself how anyone, dead or alive could create such pain.

"Hello?" The small women poked her head out from the doorway. She was short, with deep grey eyes, and short curly red hair.

"Are you Ms. Campbell?" The women's eyes showed confusion, but I already knew it was her. Inside I could hear the sound of kids laughing in the hall ways. Our investigation had brought us to a small orphanage in the middle of town.

"Yes," Her answer was slow and reluctant. "May I ask whose asking?"

"My name is dean, this is Sam and Mitch, were investigating the children murders." Dean flashed a fake badge and continued on in his questioning. "We were wondering if we could speak with you."

"I'm sorry, but It's not really a good time."

She made to close the door but dean caught it and gave her that sweet boyish smile of his, "I'll only take a minute."

"Please." Sam added. Her gaze landed on my own and I gave her a coy smile.

"It would really help with our investigation of these deaths." I pushed my way forward, shoving the boys back. "I took a special interest in this case. I was a child of the state for as long as I can remember."

The women's expression changed to that of sympathy and she reluctantly ushered us in. The place was small and run down, very quaint. The long hallway was lined with closed doors, I fell back to investigate, letting the boys question the women. It was oddly quite now, no more laughter or running. I pushed open each door to peak in, one after the other. A living room, a small dinning room, a play room, and a bedroom. No kids. I looked up the staircase and saw a small flash of movement on the upper landing.

"Hello?" I called as I walked up the steps. No one was in the halls, just another hallway lined with doors. "Is anyone up here?"

I pushed one of the doors, opening towards a bathroom. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A door down the hall creaked open and I inched forward. "My name's Michelle."

The door opened a little more, reveling a small girl with blue eyes and short choppy brown hair. She held a bunny in her arms, and couldn't have been more than six. "I'm here to find out what happened to Ginger."

"She got hurt." The little girl whispered. I crouched down outside the door.

"Can I come in?" She gave a little smile.

"Can we play?"

"Of course." I let loose a grin and she pulled the door open, taking a hold of my hand and leading me in. Once inside I noticed the beds lined against the walls. There must have been ten of them, five on each side. Each with a girl sitting on it. "My names Michelle. Where any of you friends with Ginger?"


End file.
